BROTHER CROW

Crow strikes a pose on the telephone pole.

He straightens his wings sleek as a shadow

exchanges notes with a Crow out of view

Acting as Watch for his brothers below.

when I approach Crow descends on a fence

from where he watches his brothers at work

Three are in formation next to the curb.

Two stand at guard as one raises a fern

From it falls the seed of a palm flower

Rolled from its husk sack of fan-like foliage

Crow beats its beak on it, small, hard, yellow

With all of his brothers watching over

Each bird a Talon and a Talon a bird

One step inside of each Other bird.

HERE IT IS

 I have come to the conclusion of this.

The distance resumes its distance, I wince.

It hurts to be so happy yet it is

Its own form of the same unhappiness

it stirred when deterred or was haphazarded

I am hard headed for the sake of it.

Yet without knowing I commit far worse.

For I know nothing about survival

I know little about overwhelmed love

It presses weight on the soft of the soul

It can’t be reduced in its magnitude.

Try what you do the heart is an anchor

IT seems extremely dangerous and yet

here it comes now into the present tense

TRANSLATING BIRD, Free Verse

Talk about a dreary day.  Got up complained about the heat.

Soon enough it was looking like rain.  Can’t even complain.

Oh how city streets confuse me, most words make no sense, either.

I hear them. I know the definition. And that’s it.  The rest is a guessing

game. “Did the weather change or did I?”  Am I bipolar, do I care?

Would it help to know? I doubt it.  OR why would I ask?

It’s pointless as most things, truly are. No, not spiritually speaking.  THere’s plenty

of that and much more than really necessary.  There is no free will to speak of. This is the killer, to me, it’s both true and false.  As a poet not at all.  As a verse, perhaps, maybe...

What that once meant, I can’t say.  But I understand why a bird awaits first for an unaccented rhyme to start a song.  Light is Sound to a bird, I think.  Bird plays sound against light. I’ll explain it in human: “ this is what a Bird does to show he is a Bird!” . Bird writes Birdsongs not just plays them.

By The next day, Birdsong has evolved.  Now, responds with an accented rhyme. Birds adds to his Song, “I can do it backwards, that’s how a Bird rolls.” By The next observation, Bird won’t have anything to say over the accent. Bird is emphasizing pitch.  The way that the sounds fall from the Nest!  Bird says in Human, “I live my life as a Bird up there’s the nest.---Listen, and Watch.”

Over time, this continues. .Bird had added a purr to his chirp.  Next, bird mocked his echo.

Unchanging AND Endless

#IF you ask me what a bird would say to a Poet:  Free verse is the union of all freer verse.

GALWAY BAY

When then Galway with its Sweet Song Rain

Drinks up the Thirst of an Ocean and Shines

Dressing every Cloud with Scented Listens

THat Swab away the Sound of Uncertains

WHisper in the Darkness of a Shadow

THe Bay in the Shore of that Ancient Time

Ticks with a Steady Heartbeat as it Chimes

Water per Eyesful the Tears of Dropped Pearls

Circumference is a Universe in Wholes

Grown miniature yet Grander than its SIze

How came it here?  Where did Originate?

THat I both know and don’t know it at Once

Memory of Mystery Never Known

As Yet without a Source is still a Home

TO CROW

I love Crow and Crow’s Friends.  They learned to share.

THey adopt me as their student and bard

Sing to me phrases that I’d never heard.

Just like a Poet are Crow and Crow’s Heart!

While they live in my presence they never

repeat what they say every day neither

would Crow treat me that way as ritual.

For nothing between us is tedious.

We choose it to be more mysterious

and set toward that end its desires

less assumption, less routine, less allure

and more, more, more everlasting suspense

The mastery of surprise is your own

not not to imitate what Wasn’t known

ECLIPSE IGUALDAD

http://digitropolos.blogspot.com/2014/10/eclipse-igualdad.html

KNEES OF MERCY

Writing is an honor  a pledge to live

a day -- past, present, or future -- of time

living is something a bit different

without a participle it does thrive

a verb in the full measure of being

a priori or  was destined to be

in a manner of speaking so falsely

yet without it what is this mystery?

To rhetoric or to prophesy yields

as into its music it weaves its keys

which are to be touched in their loveliness

no single ingredient is perceived

alone but its details such are these:

harmony and mercy on their bent knees